In the Belly of the Beast - Part 2

THE PICTURE OF MY CELL (in the previous post) is looking from the head of my bed/desk. On the sink are 2 bars of Next 1 moisturizing soap. On the top of the sink are (left to right) two tubes of toothpaste: the skinny one on the left is state-issued, the other is canteen purchased. A stubby toothbrush - all the better to not stab you with. A tube of chapstick and my deoderant. The bricks are all wrong - perspective problems - and the floor should be mottled. I can pace six paces from the corner by the door to the corner by my desk. Light on upper right.

On the one hand, although Jackie compliments me for not blaming anyone but myself for getting in here, there are thousands I want to blame! Ha! Yes, I had all that stuff but that being said, the CO is still an a**hole. Not to blame him - he did his job to be sure. Yet I think it was a bit of a pissy petty ticket.

On the other hand, I'm mad that I let myself get complacent, thinking I wasn't doing all that much wrong. I mean seriously, a baggie of garlic powder?! I guess that's a big caper to these people. What it really was was enough rope to hang myself. The most serious charge is the gambling. I was in a pool - told myself that since I wasn't going to run one what was the harm of being in a pool? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. So now I start off new again. No job, no income, no recreation, no visits, no phone, no shoes. I threw myself down the hole again. Okay - I am sick of it. but I don't know if I like my future free of all VICE. I don't know why it fears me so. Like I'm a loser if I'm all rule abiding. I'll be what I dispise - a drone. They will have won; I will be tamed, owned, brought to heel before people I dispise. Now I'll be a fort Indian waiting to put my mark on the paper so I can get my bottle of liquor and a ratty-ass blanket. I'm so pissed. I have to look at the smug face of some grotty pig knowing that he will always have the upper hand. It just bothers me. Because of it I can't not be self destructive.

(from a letter to Jackie written 9-24-1010)

In The Belly of the Beast

Over this last summer I watched somewhat interestedly while BP futzed around in the Gulf of Mexico with their runaway well. As I watched them attempt the thousandth "kill" (let's see, there was Top Kill, Static Kill, Bottom Kill, Side Kill, Kill Kill and Gee I Wish I Could Kill Kill) I was struck by a comment one of the engineers made: There was no situation that they couldn't make worse. Now that was a proverbial bolt from the blue. It was as if someone had put to word the very essence of my life!

I must now announce that I have found yet another way to make my situation worse: I am back in Segregation. *Boo!* To put it bluntly, I was found to be in possession of the following items, which according to the Powers that Be posed a serious risk of disruption to the security of the institution. To wit: 3 pornographic photos (color), a small baggie of garlic powder, some leftover electrical tape, a gambling information sheet, and some fantasy role-playing material/papers.

Normally at this point I would begin my ranting and raving at the injustice of it all, at the small-minded pettiness of the system and its drones, and what not and what for, ad nauseum. But not today, not this time. Yes, I had those things in my possession. My bad. What I was left with was wondering whether that motley assortment of contraband was worth 45 days up on the hill getting focused, or the loss of my tutoring position, the loss of all of my 14 months of seniority (the time elapsed since I was last in the grip). No, I don't think it was. Hindsight being what it is, I can't say I came out ahead in the transaction. On the other hand, I'm not sure that I'd change all that much. I had a nice discussion with the hearing officer that not only surprised me with his humanity (!) but certainly raised my opinion of him. I told him that I was, indeed, gambling on NFL football games; it helped to brighten a dreary grey existence. I had some, yes, garlic powder from the kitchen to make my food taste better, and the reason I had the "pornography" was because I had 50 years to do and I didn't want to forget what a woman looks like. He surprised me when he said, "Good answer, good answer." I knew he had a job to do and he had to do what he had to do, yet I was struck by his understanding of what motivates me. I didn't bullshit him, I didn't see the point.

Was it worth it? More importantly, would I do the same things again, knowing the potential outcome. No, probably not but I say that with some trepidation. I will give up the gambling on football; the Bi-valve Butcher says that that was what they were looking for in retribution for having skated on a previous gambling ticket. That makes sense. The seasonings and the photos I'd probably risk again. The hearing officer admitted that the "theft" (of seasoning) was "miniscule" and I think I made my case for the photos. All in all, I think it was a wash. There were some technical violations of the rules and some not so technical and I don't feel that I was chewed up too badly by the machine. I'll miss the job and the paycheck, but I wasn't supposed to have either anyways, so I feel I stole $500 from them, I guess.

If anyone is wondering what I've learned from this experience, I can only imagine your disappointment. I've learned that a particular CO, a tiny frustrated bitter man, can carry a grudge for quite awhile. I learned that an executioner can be empathetic all the while lopping off your head. I learned that wagering on the NFL is a sin and not a victimless crime. Oh yes, that seasonings are for the masses and not the individual. And that I can live a life, bleak in its colorlessness and flavorlessness, but still retain my dignity and humor. In a few short weeks I'll descend from my self-imposed exile to jostle with stink of felons, shake-up with my Brothers, laugh and mock and turn another day.